William Shakespeare · 128 pages
Rating: (558K votes)
“By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.”
“To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
“Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.”
“Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!”
“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.”
“Life ... is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
“Look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under it.”
“...Who could refrain,
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage to make love known?”
“Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
“False face must hide what the false heart doth know.”
“I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more, is none”
“Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.”
“Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won”
“Come what come may, time and the hour run through the roughest day.”
“Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done.”
“Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts! Unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top full
Of direst cruelty; make thick my blood,
Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts,
And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances
You wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
Nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry "Hold, hold!”
“All causes shall give way: I am in blood
Stepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o’er.”
“O, full of scorpions is my mind!”
“Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.”
“Out, out brief candle, life is but a walking shadow...a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
“it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance”
“Out, damned spot! out, I say!”
“My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.”
“Macbeth: How does your patient, doctor?
Doctor: Not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-coming fancies that keep her from rest.
Macbeth: Cure her of that! Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon her heart.
Doctor: Therein the patient must minister to himself.”
“So fair and foul a day I have not seen.”
“The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.”
“I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself
And falls on the other.”
“Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
Yet Grace must still look so.”
“... Obviously you're all quite used to the faces. But I'm beginning to wish I were back among my poor old harmless lunatics. Are you all blind, then? So easily fooled? Don't you see they'd kill you all for less than a gesture, for less than a sandwich? You needn't even be dark-haired or blond anymore, or show your grandmother's birth certificate. They'd kill you if they just didn't like your faces. Didn't you see the posters on the wall? Are you blind? You just don't know anymore where you are ... Respectable, respectable. I'm scared, old man-- I've never felt such a stranger among people, not even in 1935 and not in 1942. Maybe I do need time, but even centuries wouldn't be enough to get me used to their faces. Respectable, respectable, without a trace of grief. What's a human being without grief?”
“The status of celebrity offers the promise of being showered with ‘all good things’ that capitalism has to offer. The grotesque display of celebrity lives (and deaths) is the contemporary form of the cult of personality; those ‘famous for being famous’ hold out the spectacular promise of the complete erosion of a autonomously lived life in return for an apotheosis as an image. The ideological function of celebrity (and lottery systems) is clear - like a modern ‘wheel of fortune’ the message is ‘all is luck; some are rich, some are poor, that is the way the world is...it could be you!”
“during the first two interrogative sessions. Either I refused to answer or I would reply”
“To his surprise and suspicion, she smiled.”
“He looked at me. " I do know how to deal with demons, Savannah."
"I know. Sorry."
"So I get a hug?"
"No, but I won't smack you, and we'll call it even.”
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